Drabble: Woodstock
Three days of peace, and music and love. Spike laughed, stumbling through the crowds of mud covered tie-dye wearing tree-huggers. The sun had gone down but the music hadn’t stopped, filling the hills with the sounds of Jefferson Airplane and the slight buzzing in his head. Some man wearing camouflage pants bumped into him, sending Spike crashing to the ground. Laying there smiling, Spike gazed intently at his hands, they’d been twitching funny ever since he fed off that flower person. He waved through the air, watching as they blurred into one long slow moving pattern. Best damn concert ever.